Rachel: Wow, everything looks so good. I think I'm gonna have the chicken.
Steve: I just have to say this. You're really beautiful.
Rachel: Wow, that's very sweet. Thank you.
Steve: I'm kind of funny-looking.
Rachel: What?
Steve: Look, I mean, come on you're way out of my league. Everybody in here knows it. I bet that guy over there is probably saying: "Ooh. Why's she out with him? He must be rich." Well, I'm not.
Rachel: So what do you think you want to order? I'm real excited about that chicken.
Steve: I'm not funny, either. So if you were thinking, "Well, he's not that good-looking but maybe we'll have some laughs," that ain't gonna happen.
Rachel: Well, come on, Steve, let's not rule out nervous laughter. Hey, now, wait a minute, Phoebe told me that you owned your own restaurant. That's impressive.
Steve: I lost it ... to drugs. I silk-screen T-shirts now.
Rachel: Really? What's that like? It's really fulfilling doing something you hate for no money.
That's right. I have no money, I'm not funny, I live in a studio apartment with two other guys. And I'm pretty sure I'm infertile.
Rachel: Now, come on. Come on, Steve. There must be something that you like about yourself.
Steve: I do like my hair.
Rachel: Really?